


To live where others merely dream

by Analinea



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Adventures, Fluff, Getting Together, Historical, M/M, and attempts at humor, inspired by Road to ElDorado, pinning, stereksummerexchange17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-21 12:21:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11357409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analinea/pseuds/Analinea
Summary: Derek tries to understand how in the hell they ended up where they are. That is to say, in the middle of the ocean on a small boat with a horse and no provisions.-Or: looking for El Dorado, city of gold and magic, where it is said all curses can be broken.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This gift is for so-many-arrows and I hope you'll like it (❁°͈▵°͈)

“He gave me loaded dice!” Derek exclaims in desperation, showing said dice to the crowd of curious passerby and the sailors they just tried to scam, “Guard! Arrest him!” he points at Stiles with his other hand.

“You dare to impugn my honor?” Stiles yells back after a dramatic gasp, a hand on his chest, “He was the one who was cheating! Arrest _him_!” He pushes against Derek's chest who lets himself stumble a few steps back for show. The only real way for Stiles to have the upper hand is not with brute strength.

“Are you calling me a thief?” Derek screeches, a tone he would never be caught using in any other occasion than fake fighting Stiles for an escape. A situation that, really, happens way too often. “You better get these sailors money back or I'll...I'll...,” he looks around and finds a big guard in shining armor right behind him. He grabs his sword and turns to Stiles in the same motion, before the guard can react, and haughtily exclaims, “En garde!” This is is favorite part.

“En garde yourself!” Stiles answers petulantly, stealing a sword to another guard but ending up with a knife instead. Rectifying his mistake quickly, he begins to step to the side so they round each other and get closer to the only end of the plaza that's empty of people.

Which is: a wall. They cross swords a few times before Derek jumps on a barrel, a pile of crates, and then is on the roof of said wall. “You fight like my sister!” he taunts, looking down at Stiles with the straightest face he can manage. Cora would kick his ass for the comment, but she left for the new world months ago so Derek feels pretty safe saying this.

“I fought your sister! That's a compliment!” Stiles laughs, following. It's true too, that he fought Cora. And lost. Utterly crushed. He bit the dust. All of that and then the following endless teasing.

Stiles, with his usual grace when he's not minding his own body -like right now when he's having so much fun- slips on a tile and falls on his ass on the roof. Derek, fast on his feet, advances and puts the point of the sword under Stiles' chin. Stays there for a few seconds, smirk on his face while Stiles playfully glares at him. Then he withdraws and bows to the crowd whose cheer is devolving into confused questions.

“It seems to be a draw,” he says to them when Stiles is up and standing right behind him. They throw the swords down.

“Adios,” they say in unison, salute. Then jump on the other side.

 

Derek tries to understand how in the hell they ended up where they are. That is to say, in the middle of the ocean on a small boat with a horse and no provisions.

So they jumped from that wall. Yes. Then they ran. Okay. Then they hid behind some crates on the docks. So far so good. That's routine, that's the kind of trouble they always end up into -the kind of trouble Stiles always seems to pull them into anyway. Not that Derek doesn't like it. He's an active participant in trouble. He's also an active participant in bitching about it, but it's his most attractive feature, or so he heard. From Stiles, actually.

It's just that trouble landed them locked in a cell on _Gerard_ freaking _Argent_ 's ship. The ruthless conquistador who's family had taken part in the inquisition. But that seemed to just make Stiles' day because–

Rewinding a little: the thing that led to the sailors discovering the loaded dice scam had been a map of dubious origins supposedly leading to El Dorado. The map looked shady and not informative at all, but Stiles eyes lit up: El Dorado, city of gold and magic and, according to legends, where all curses could be broken.

And, well, as it happens, Derek is cursed.

And, also, as it happens, conquistadors usually sail to the new world and incidentally the mystical city's continent.

So, Stiles' eyes lit up and it frankly warmed Derek's heart because Stiles is always taking Derek's problems at heart and making them his own, but then it's not like it's a painful curse, just an uncomfortable one. And contrary to popular belief, the curse is not him being a werewolf -for the people believing in them in the first place anyway.

The curse is that apart from his strength, a little bit of his healing factor and his glowing eyes -very useful to freak people out which Derek uses and abuses because it's just _so damn funny okay_ \- Derek is basically human.

No heightened senses, no shift -full or otherwise- no mighty roar.

He'll deny to his dying day trying to howl and making a wet kitten sound. Stiles won't let him forget about it, but he'll keep denying it.

Back to the locked up on a ship situation, because that's when it got really weird. Like, Stiles baiting Argent's war horse with an apple and asking it to bring them a pry bar. And before Derek even had time to roll his eyes at the ridicule of the situation, the horse bringing them back the _keys_.

So, yeah, basically, that's how they ended up in the middle of the ocean on a small boat with a horse and no provisions. And no land in sight.

They really should've thought this through.

They're back to back, the horse behind Derek because he -it's a he according to Stiles- creeps Derek a little with how he seems to understand everything they say.

The situation is pretty dire for a moment.

Derek considers his options. He could take his feelings for Stiles to the grave. Metaphorically, because there's no graveyard in the Atlantic. Or, he could confess everything: his annoyance when he first met Stiles on the streets and the kid wouldn't leave him alone, the crush that built up two days in, the full blown love two weeks in. Five years of unconditional love now.

But then, Derek thinks, they could still survive this. And in his book, he's better dead than alive and embarrassed. Or, he's better alive and not embarrassed than dead. That sounds more reasonable.

“Derek?” Stiles asks after a long silence. Derek hums in acknowledgment. “Did you ever think we would end like this?”

“Well...,” Derek starts, thinks about it. “The horse is a surprise.”

Stiles laughs. Then he says, more seriously, “I really wanted to find El Dorado.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek answers, and it makes him smile despite it all. “But it's– it's okay. You made my life...an adventure,” he hides his trembling voice behind a manly cough.

“Sand,” Stiles states. And, what? What kind of response is that, when Derek just got more emotional in one sentence than in all his years since he met Stiles?

“What.”

“Sand!” Stiles repeats before straightening up, making Derek fall back in the process, and then he's out the boat and yelling, “Sand!” like a mad man. But then Derek realizes, Stiles is _out the boat_ and that means...

“Land!” he exclaims in turn, and soon he's running out himself, laughing. The horse is jumping up and down all around them both.

And then there's a crack. And Derek and Stiles looks down at what Stiles just crushed under his foot. A skull. With the rest of the skeleton pierced by a rusty sword.

“Or, you know...,” Stiles squeals, “the boat.” He points behind his shoulder with his thumb, nodding to himself and backing up.

Derek swallows. “Yup,” he agrees, and turns on his heels to prepare the boat. Wherever they washed up, there's probably a civilized city up or down from here that they can get to by boat. Not being killed seems like a good option. Derek likes it. He votes for it.

But Stiles is not following him. He's still on the same spot, looking at the jungle with a thoughtful look that Derek does not like at all. It's the kind of look that got them chased by a hoard of angry cats one night. Stiles is reaching inside his tunic and Derek knows where this is going.

“Derek! Derek this has to be– this is fate, this is...Derek, look!” Stiles holds up the map and points at a big rock that could either look like a bird head or a drunk turtle. It's not a comparison that Derek pulls out of nowhere too.

“No,” he says, then sighs because he already knows Stiles will win this. But damn if Derek won't make it hard on him.

“Derek!” Stiles turns to him and uses that begging voice that almost always makes Derek cave. “Look! It's the start of the map! We're so close! We just have to follow the trail!” Stiles bounces on the spot, looking everywhere and glancing pleadingly at Derek.

“What trail?” Derek asks in an already defeated tone, crossing his arms on his chest.

Stiles runs to the thick edge of the jungle and smacks head first in a big rock that was hidden by leaves. He falls on his ass and Derek steps up with worry before Stiles gets up again and starts running again.

“Okay, not that one,” Stiles shouts in his excitement, looking at the map instead of where he's going, “but this way I'm sure!” And then, miraculously, when he jumps between the trees he doesn't brain himself on anything else.

Derek shares a look with the horse. And the horse, he swears to god, the horse _shrugs_ before following Stiles. Derek blinks. Shakes his head to try and wake up. When it fails, he shrugs too and goes after Stiles and the horse.

 

“Just remind me whose brilliant idea this was?” Derek grumbles, stomping through the unknown jungle completely naked. Stiles runs after him in the same undressed sate and Derek can pretend he's okay with it while Stiles is half hidden under water but he really can't deal with it in the open air.

It's just hard, okay? And he's not talking about– he's talking about his _feelings_ and the fact that Stiles is way more good looking than he realizes himself.

“The swimming or the travel?” Stiles asks, out of breath, cursing when he stubs his toe on a root, “Because pleading guilty on the trip, though I really didn't plan on us being trapped on a ship, right, but the swimming was definitely you and your frankly disturbing tendency to want to groom yourself every chance you get.”

“That's called taking a bath, Stiles,” Derek deadpans even if he's slightly amused. Plus, Stiles' got a point. He was the one that suggested they clean up, though Stiles is the one that wanted them to relax in the water.

In the end, maybe it's no one's fault that their clothes got stolen by a bunch of monkeys that thought they were funny. Derek just wishes for his awesome sense of smell to be back right about now because these are the only clothes they have and he doesn't want to ride on Roscoe's back naked.

He still has no idea why Stiles called the horse Roscoe. But he did, so. That's a thing now.

On cue, the horse pokes his head through a thick bunch of gigantic ferns, Derek's shirt held between his teeth and the rest haphazardly thrown onto his own back. The intelligence of this animal is still uncanny. Derek takes his shirt and yanks it on.

“Come on,” Stiles chuckles, hopping on the spot to put his pants back on -thank god for small mercies- “stop being such a sour wolf.”

“I was led to believe it's actually my most distinctive personality trait, which is, and I quote, essential to any famous duo of adventurers,” Derek shoots back, already starting to walk back to camp.

“That's true, I wonder who told you such a clever thing,” Stiles says, then adds, “what's mine then?” and he must know what Derek's answer will be or he would have said something himself.

“Idiocy,” Derek smiles. Stiles just laughs.

“Yeah, yeah, say that again when we've found El Dorado!”

Derek doesn't say anything about his doubts that the city is even real, because he knows Stiles has the same.

Derek slumps down next to the fire and Stiles does the same opposite him, and as he looks at the beautiful, kind, clever, cheeky man bathed in firelight, he thinks that he would follow him to the edge of the world.

 

They follow more rocks, some weird butterflies that fly out conveniently at the right time, a big ass waterfall, and then Roscoe is walking on a log in thick fog, no idea where they're going at the moment.

So it really shouldn't come as a surprise when the log cracks and there's absolutely zero ground underneath.

Derek curls around Stiles who was riding in front of him, trying to protect him from the uncontrolled fall through branches, but when they roll on the hard ground at the bottom they both smack their head on something and all Derek knows is dizziness, white creeping on the edge of his vision, and the headache of the century.

He learned all about hangovers after his curse. This is a reminder he could've gone without.

He comes back to full consciousness faster than Stiles, unsurprisingly, but he doesn't move a finger because he finds out then that Stiles is half sprawled on top of him. And, well, he wants to enjoy the that for a second.

It's just that– he's never been able to tell Stiles how he feels because he's too worried of ruining everything. He knows that he could very well live without him if things go bad, he just doesn't want to. And Stiles is flirty with everyone so Derek can't ever let himself hope when the flirting is directed at him.

Plus, he's got way more than easy smiles and winks from Stiles, he's got his friendship. He's got the bad days and the awesome days, he knows Stiles past and he shares his present, as cheesy as that sounds. They've had each other's backs for years and sometimes it's like they share one mind.

But Derek draws the line at sharing Stiles' bed even if it would be totally platonic, avoids at all cost seeing Stiles naked, and certainly keeps his feelings in check.

So right now, he indulges himself in some harmless contact while protecting Stiles from the cold hard ground.

But then, when he studies the massive block of rock that they hit, he sees that it's definitely not natural. Unless rocks started coming in perfect rectangular shapes standing straight up from the ground with an artistic carving up front.

Even upside down, the picture is familiar. Derek gently pushes Stiles and stands up, takes out the map from his own tunic because he didn't trust Stiles with it after he let it be snatched by furious wind and they spent two hours running after it. In circles.

He glances from the carving to the drawing on the paper. Two persons riding a snake's back. He hums. Goes to look behind the sculpture. Then he crouches next to Stiles.

“Stiles, hey,” he shakes him, then again when Stiles groans. “Stiles. We found it.”

“Wha'?”

“El Dorado. We found it.”

Stiles sits up abruptly, keel over to the side before Derek pushes him back up, and then he fully realizes what Derek just said.

“What? We found it?” he exclaims, excited that they've reached their goal.

“Yep, we did,” Derek nods with a satisfied expression.

“Where is it?” Stiles gets up and starts looking everywhere.

“Just. Just there,” Derek gets behind him and turns him to the giant slab of rock.

“I don't understand! Where is it? Behind? Is this the door?”

“No, no. This is it. El Dorado. Is. A. Rock,” Derek enunciates calmly. Stiles stays speechless for a second before he runs around to see for himself. And just behind the sculpture there...absolutely nothing. Just an empty space before a waterfall that is not even that impressive.

“I, uh...,” Stiles says awkwardly, then he shrugs. He looks disappointed but not overly sorry to have come all this way for nothing. It's not like they don't know how to feed themselves and there's water in abundance and okay, the storm the other night was a bit of a pain, but overall they haven't done too bad for themselves here.

That's what Derek knows is going through Stiles mind. He thinks more or less the same, but this was Stiles' idea all along so he's going to milk the embarrassment for the rest of his life.

“Okay, so...,” Stiles rubs at his neck and turns to Derek with a sheepish smile, “I guess we go back to the place we camped at last night?” he offers, one shoulder raised, head tilted to inspire sympathy.

“You're on fire duty tonight,” Derek states, then thinks and adds, “and hunting duty too.” Then he gets on Roscoe's back. Stiles pretends to consider, but really he knows he owes Derek at least one night of laying around with his feet up. So he eventually nods and gets on the horse.

Of course, because that's their life, that's the exact moment a girl with fiery red hair chooses to appear out of thin air right in front of them, run into Roscoe head first, and fall on her back dropping to the ground what she was carrying in her arms. The thing rolls out of the cloth that was protecting it and that, right there, is a freaking glowing ball of– of...sparks.

That thing. It can only be magic.

 

The day gets weirder. Only a second after the girl bumps into Roscoe, a small army of armed men comes running and shouting after her in a language Derek can perfectly understand. Thankfully they don't seem interested in the two bewildered men on a horse, too focused on the girl who gets to her feet, scoops up the glowing ball and back up towards Roscoe.

And then, she points right at Derek and says, “The gods asked me to,” in a very condescending voice before all but hurling the sparking thing at Derek. He catches it by reflex and has a second of utter panic before realizing that he thing doesn't burn. It's...quite nice actually. Kinda tickling.

He's pulled back to the present when, for some reason, Roscoe violently rears up and Stiles grabs at every available parts of Derek to stay on the horse's back. Like, hair and neck, almost choking Derek in the process.

When Roscoe calms down and Stiles is done trying to kill Derek, they're met with the strangest sight: every last warrior down on their knees, foreheads on the ground. The silence is deafening after the previous chaos.

Derek looks over his shoulder and shares a look of total confusion with Stiles. Then he turns back and shares a look of total confusion with Roscoe's right eye.

One man gets up and, without looking at either of them, gestures to the waterfall behind the sculpture. “Come, lords.” Everyone gets up and starts to walk. The girl look at them with one eyebrow raised and silently urges them to follow.

So they do.

 

For a wild panicky minute, Derek is pretty sure this underground river with lead them straight to an afterlife of some kind because there is a light at the end of the tunnel. But then the light is obscured by a curtain and then–

_Then_ , they're on the other side of the curtain and he can't be anywhere else than in heaven because this is just way too magnificent to be true. The tunnel opens on a wide lake fed by a multitude of waterfalls, lazy streams running between luxurious vegetation and beautiful, golden buildings.

Behind him, he hears Stiles whisper, “El Dorado.”

People gather on the banks of the lake to look at them curiously. Derek feels Stiles nervously reaching for his hand, so he grasp Stiles' and feels the tremors in his fingers. They've long passed the stage of being self-conscious about holding hands to anchor themselves to each other, but it never ceases to make Derek's heart beat faster.

They stay like that when they disembark, and the man who welcomes them takes one look at it and smiles knowingly. He introduces himself as the chief, and Stiles squeezes Derek's hand harder in excitement. That's when Derek finally dares to glance at Stiles, and he's left as breathless as he thought he would be at the way Stiles seems to shine. It makes him smile despite the strangeness of the situation.

“You are welcomed among us,” the chief says, and Derek focuses back. His eyes keep going to the man standing to the right of the chief: a milky eyed man with the kind of smile Derek has only seen on cruel people. The armed men gather behind him.

“Oh course, the gods are welcomed,” milky-eyed man says, voice dripping sweetness, bowing his head a little, and Derek still wonders what this gods business is all about, “but I only wish they could bless us.”

The chief glances from the man to Derek and Stiles and smiles nervously.

“Come, now, Deucalion, no need to overwhelm our guests so early, their presence only is already a blessing. I'm sure they'll perform their miracles when they deem the time right.”

Miracles. Okay. No.

“Would you excuse us for a second?” Derek smiles, and barely waits for the answering nod to grab Stiles and lead him just far enough that he can whisper without anyone understanding his words.

“This is crazy Stiles!” he whisper shouts, but Stiles is looking all around him with the same bright expression he had a minute before. Derek shakes him until Stiles focuses back on him.

“Derek, this is amazing, isn't it amazing? We found El Dorado! It's beautiful! And they have _magic_!” Stiles manages to contain his excitement enough that he's not too loud about it. Derek glances at the people watching them with an affable smile to keep them from becoming too suspicious. He's not sure what happens to fake gods, but he's not willing to find out.

“Stiles, this is insane, we can't stay here and pretend to be gods!”

Stiles blinks and frown, and Derek almost regrets the loss of his happy expression. “Then we tell them the truth,” Stiles shrugs as if it's that simple. Derek groans.

“We _can't_! They'll kill us! Best thing to do now is to, I don't know, say we're busy with other godly things and we were just passing by to say hi, and _leave_.”

“No!” Stiles shakes his head, “We need to stay here! Why don't you want to stay here, it's for you that we came all this way!” He's getting worked up and Derek doesn't feel warm right now he just feels angry because why can't Stiles ever see when they're heading straight into big trouble?

“Well I didn't ask you to!” It's a wonder they're still whispering at this stage, glowering at each other. Stiles snaps his mouth shut and glares at Derek with betrayal on his face.

“Well if you don't care about your curse and if I'm such trouble trying to help you...,” Derek doesn't like at all where this is headed, “well.” Stiles takes a step back, getting free of Derek's grasp on his shoulders. He continues louder and louder, “You can. Just. Leave!”

At the exact same time he shouts the last word, the ground starts to shake and there's a roar like nothing Derek's heard before. He turns just in time to see a nearby mountain let out a column of smoke. When it stops and the grumbling eases down, there's just silence. He's shaking all over, and he knows Stiles is as freaked out as he is.

They both turn back to the people behind them with wide eyes, only to find them prostrated like the warriors before. Derek has a sinking suspicion that fate just made it near impossible for them to convince anyone they're not gods.

“Lords,” the chief gets up and approaches them, “let me show you to your rooms. You'll have everything you need, and we'll host a feast in your honor tonight. Please, stay with us until then.”

Derek can't think of anything to say. Besides him, Stiles nods.

 

Derek really needs to get his priorities straight. Because they're in a hidden mystical city of gold and magic, treated like gods, and he's losing his mind because right now he's sharing a bed with Stiles.

Why is there even a bed, in a room at the top of a hundred stairs, in a temple for the gods? Do gods sleep?

So there's only one bed and Derek couldn't exactly say to Stiles that he didn't want to sleep next to him. And here he is, so far from Stiles' warm sleeping body that he's almost rolling off the edge of the bed.

It's torture, really, he wants to gather Stiles in his arms _so bad_ and cuddle and kiss but he can't say anything about it. They've more or less settled their arguments from earlier but Derek won't risk anything else to piss Stiles off. What would he do, then? Go back to the jungle alone and try to get back to Spain? Find Cora?

He sighs.

“Derek?” a quiet voice interrupts his thoughts. He hums in answer. “I'm sorry about earlier.”

Derek turns until he faces Stiles, bathed in the silver moonlight. It's so different from firelight and yet, Stiles is as beautiful. “You won't leave, right?” he asks, putting an open hand between them. Derek takes it.

“I'm right here with you,” he says.

 

Lydia knows, obviously, that they're not gods. Derek has a gnawing suspicion the chief knows too, but doesn't say anything. Deucalion tries his hardest to prove it, of course.

In the middle of all that, it's been three days since they're here and Derek is downright miserable. Not because they're this close to being pinned down as plain humans -or as close to it as possible in his case- and possibly thrown down this scary pit of swirling water behind Deucalion's temple to his scary death gods.

No. Because Stiles has taken to the city and its inhabitants like a fish to water. Especially Lydia. They've been talking and talking together day in and day out and Stiles looks at her with stars in his eyes and Derek is not jealous, alright, but he's just a bit pissed off by it. That's all it is.

And the chief too. When Stiles is not with Lydia or playing stupid street games with the city people, he's trailing the chief like a overexcited puppy, asking a thousand questions. This one, Derek can understand a little and not feel too left out, because Stiles apparently found a new father figure and Derek is happy for him. Really, he is. It's just that he feels like his own place is not here.

And Stiles' is.

So Derek looks for any evidence that Deucalion will make a move against them, since Derek and Stiles not so kindly rejected his offer to dominate the city with him and overthrow the chief. He enjoys the heavenly good food -he didn't _cry_ the first time, okay, he just got dust in his eyes- and he walks around. Sitting down on a small pier in an empty part of the city, Derek sulks.

That is, until someone sits besides him. Derek saw this girl around town a few times, always accompanied by a pale guy with ridiculous scarfs and a big guy who looks like he could crush your head with his fingers.

Derek looks back at the parts of the city still illuminated by sunlight, and from here he can see Stiles running around with little kids trying to teach him a stupid game involving a stick with a net at the end.

If he squints, Derek can also see that new friend Stiles made for himself, the one with the crooked jaw. He grits his teeth.

“You're pretty stupid for a god, aren't you?” the girl says matter-of-factly.

“And that's your business how?” Derek grumbles. He regrets being so rude sometimes, but he can't help himself. It's his selling point, or so Stiles said.

“I just wouldn't want the volcano to explode in our faces if you get your tail in a twist, that's all,”

Derek looks sharply at her then, because there's only two people that say that to him and it's supposed to be a joke about his werewolfiness. The girl only scoffs.

“What, like it's supposed to be this big secret? We're only playing along because to piss off Deucalion you know,” she chuckles, “and because you're both too adorable.” She sobers up. “Be careful about Deucalion, though. There's not much we can do to help if he ever does something against you two. He's the one with the magic around here, that's why Lydia tried to run away with the Stone.”

Derek doesn't say anything, just nods. His brain is working overtime to connect all the dots.

“Why am I an idiot then?”

She studies him with her eyebrows raised like just asking the question proved her point. “We're all betting on when you'll get your heads out of your asses about your stupid crushes,” she says, and it's the most crude person Derek encountered here, everyone else is always so polite. “Also, there's a second poll going on about who's going to go first with the confession.” She looks at the city then, a satisfied smirk in place.

“Are you...,” Derek narrows his eyes, because he's no beginner in scams of all sorts, “are you telling me this to rig the game?”

She laughs, head thrown back, “That's what you're focusing on?” she turns to him again, still laughing. Then she winks and gets up. Before he knows it, he's alone again and left reeling with the implications of what she just said.

There's bets on _who will confess first?_ But...they can only be wrong. But they got it right about Derek's crush -is he _that_ obvious?- so...

Derek watches the sun set and the stars come out. He doesn't move for a long time. He needs some time to unfreeze his brain.

 

Of course, since it's his life and nothing can ever be easy, when he finally gets back to their chamber ready to just throw caution to the wind and kiss Stiles -after his confession and Stiles consent obviously- it's only to be rudely interrupted by a giant moving rocky sculpture of a wolf.

Derek isn't even surprised by this. Just disappointed.

“Well, well, well,” Deucalion says, eyes shining the same red as the lines that course all over the beast’s body, making it clear he's the one controlling it, “looks like the big wolf is going to eat the little one.”

Derek steps aside so he’s standing between Stiles and the threat, which of course Stiles ignores by coming to stand next to him.

“Why are you doing this?” Stiles asks coldly.

“My, but to get more power!” Deucalion extends his arms to the side. He looks like a fanatic, but then with his worshiping of death gods Derek supposes he is. “Come now, little god,” he says with a smirk to Stiles “if you stand aside I might yet let you live.”

“You’re going to do just that,” Derek snarls, taking a step. He ignores Stiles trying to grab his arm and keep him back.

“Oh for god’s sake,” Stiles groans, and the irony is definitely not lost on Derek but then Stiles is pulling Derek back so hard he can only stumble. Balance lost he finds himself already running down the hundreds of stairs of the temple before he even processes Stiles’ hand in his.

 

Derek thinks they managed to avoid wreaking too much havoc on the city itself by fleeing towards the outer limits of it.

But now there’s nowhere to go, they’re on the edge of the big freaky drop into swirling water and the rock beast is advancing on them. Stiles has picked up a machete from somewhere and, true, he’s better at sword fighting than Derek -which he proved multiple times and smugly reminded Derek of- but machetes aren't the same thing at all.

And Derek would know, he almost lost a finger when Stiles picked one up a few days ago and started messing around with it.

Plus, there’s probably nothing it can do against rock. So, they’re pretty much screwed.

Derek desperately tries to think of a few good last words, but nothing comes to mind. So, here’s to improvisation he guesses.

“I, uh, I love you.”

Well that could’ve been better in execution but he’s going with what he has right now.

Stiles turns to him with a very offended face and Derek is worried for a second.

“Seriously?” Stiles squeals, “You’re doing this _now_?” He shakes his head. “Well good job on the dramatic reveal,” he grins, eyes still fixed on the beast that has now backed them up all the way to the edge. Then he turns to Derek with the brightest smile, though it's tainted by fear. “Love you too.” And then he starts running at the beast.

“Stiles!” Derek yells, but it’s too late. He suddenly understands that Stiles is trying to get past the beast to Deucalion. The man is standing right behind his monster and laughs manically, yelling something that sounds like “I am the demon wolf” which is so ridiculous Derek is probably hearing it wrong.

Stiles actually manages to dodge two swipes of gigantic paws coming right at him with this grace he only possesses in actual fights. But the third gets him, and he flies back, rolls, stops at Derek’s feet. He doesn't move again.

And that, right then, makes something crack inside Derek. The terror and desperation fade into the background, overcomed by pure rage.

He howls.

He shifts.

  
Everything else is a blur, but Derek is quite certain of something: he didn't save the day. He did save Stiles though, so in his case it counts as saving the world. He kinda hates being so cheesy, but well.

He knows that Lydia barged in, kinda ruining his very own moment of bravery and curse breaking and love protecting, and _she_ saved the day with an almighty scream that broke the rock monster in millions pieces, as easy as glass.

Deucalion is dead, too, which shouldn't be a relief but is. No one could stand the guy and his dramatics.

So that leaves them here, standing on the main pier with the chief, people curiously looking from afar. There's the betting girl over there who thumbs up at Derek and he wonders how she can know.

Stiles is having his injured arm bandaged and he looks guiltily at the chief.

“So...,” he drawls, “bleeding! Not a god!” He rubs at his neck with his good hand, and the chief mirrors the gesture but in a thoughtful way.

“Yeah, I know,” he smiles, steps up to ruffle Stiles' hair. They both look at each other for a long moment, the chief with pride and Stiles with wonder.

“So...” It's Derek's turn to awkwardly start. “What now?”

“Yeah, do we have to go?” Stiles starts to ramble, “Can we, like, stay?” he directs that one half at Derek, “We also have to think about Argent because he'll–”

“Stiles.” The chief raises his hands in a calming gesture, making Stiles take a deep breath. “You can stay, son.” For a second he almost seems surprised himself at the word, but then he continues as if nothing happened, “If you wish so.” Stiles looks up at him with such hope, then at Derek with such pleading eyes, that he suddenly realizes how stupid he's been this past week.

“I...,” he hesitates, looks around for a second. “Well, I don't know many places with good food like this, so I guess it wouldn't be to difficult to stay.”

There's a short silence before everyone starts laughing. Stiles leaps from where he's half sitting and suddenly Derek has his arms full. He joins the laughter. Yeah. Staying here is good.

 

“So,” Stiles says again, but this time they're alone. They spent the day celebrating and now the sun is setting behind the mountains, making the volcano light up like it's on fire. “You love me, uh?” He looks unsure, like he thinks he dreamed it.

“And you love me,” Derek says smoothly, grin in place, acting like his heart isn't beating a mile a minute.

“Well, yeah, I thought it was pretty obvious,” Stiles chuckles, “I guess not. Lydia was right, I am an idiot.”

Derek thinks back on the girl -Erica, he learned today- and what she said. Was it only yesterday? “I suppose I am, too,” he says.

Stiles laughs. “That's our most attractive feature.”

“They'll write a book about us idiots and our adventures.”

“Well then, let's make it interesting. Why not start with a little romance?” Stiles steps closer to Derek, and the night is fresh enough that he feels Stiles' warmth even before they're pressed together. He looks into Stiles' sparkling eyes.

It's the new moon tonight. Which, now that he thinks about it, makes it even more incredible that he broke the curse the night before.

But that's not the point. The point is, bathed in only starlight, Stiles is beautiful.

Still, he's half hidden by the darkness of the night so. Derek supposes he'll have to use his lips to see him better.


	2. Video

  
Like, I just wanted to leave you with picturing Stiles and Derek singing this :D

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and **comments** are greatly appreciated!
> 
> For the record, I initially went with a fully original story, an ancient Greece AU, but I rewrote it like 5 times and it turned more and more angsty until I started yelling in frustration, so I started wrtiting this, like, 5 days ago and I used Road to El Dorado as inspiration (anyone having seen the movie will recognize the scenes in the beginning) while making sure it was understandable without seeing the movie because I didn't have time to think of a fully original plot AND I'M SORRY ABOUT THAT I HOPE IT TURNED OUT OKAY T.T


End file.
